


Unhinged

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Genre: Original Series, Original work - Freeform, YA
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-04 23:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18353723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After a Civil emergency message is broadcast across the world, through out the night, parents are forced to euthanize their own children to protect themselves. A wide spread genetic awakening makes it that anyone under 18 could become violent. Out of control. Crazy. Murderous. Unhinged.While Kraig's parents made the hard decision to spare him while he slept and leave, that doesn't mean everyone else on the street had the courage to leave their children alive. Only 4 other kids are left with the carnage of their neighborhood and the question that burns in their heads along with the trauma of finding their neighbors dead.What happened?





	1. Silence is deafening

There were no birds chirping outside. I think that’s what woke me up. The utter silence from a world that was supposed to be anything but silent. I opened my eyes, rolling to my left to look out my bedroom window, expecting for darkness outside, but instead, it was like any cloudy friday afternoon. Afternoon? It can’t be. I roll over the right side of my bed away from the window. The wall to my right had a clock on it, the time showing it to be 11:53. I should be in school now, eating lunch, stressing about the test in biology which was supposed to be taken in the next period. Why hadn’t my parents woken me up?  
I slowly get out of bed. My window was shut tight. My mom always comes in the morning to open it up, help me get out of bed, and ask what I wanted for breakfast. Even on the weekends I’d always wake up to a open window.   
I grab my phone off my dresser, seeing no missed calls. I haven’t gotten a weather notification either. I scroll through my phone until I find the weather app. When I click on it, The pop up that says I have no internet comes up. What?  
I open my bedroom door, looking down the hallway. My bedroom was on the left side of the hall with the bathroom, my parents bedroom and the laundry room are on the right. I’ve lived in this house almost my whole life. Since I was at least a year old. My parents moved out of their one bedroom apartment to our home in a suburb in Hartford Michigan. They said they wanted a four bedroom home incase they had another kid. It’s been thirteen years though, and unless they had a secret kid, I’m the only child to Mason and Tiffany Corbett, Kraig Corbett, the one and only. We don’t keep things from each other, so if they were going somewhere, I’m pretty sure they’d tell me.   
I go towards my parents bedroom and see the door wide open. I peer into the bright room. The curtains are open, giving the room a grey tone. The bed covers disturbed and unmade, but empty. Their personal bathroom door open, and the lights are turned off, so they’re not in there.  
I close the door and walk into the main part of the house. The living room and kitchen are in the same room basically, the only thing separating the two being the carpet and hardwood floor. No food on the carpet, no remotes on the hardwood.It’s a rule that’s always been there, along with my parents. But my parents aren’t here either.  
Again, in the familiar space of my home, something seemed missing. I look over the living room. The couch and dad’s chair are in the same place as always, the Tv hasn’t been stolen, the remote is on the coffee table,the family pictures in their right place-, wait.   
The many pictures that sit under the lamp on the right side of the couch are disaragened. Some pictures on the floor, others out of place. I pick up the one on the floor up, setting it back on the lamp table. I do i quick once over to make sure there all in place and I notice a picture missing.   
What is going on?   
I step over the carpet and onto the hardwood, making my way to the fridge. The note that’s always been there. Pinned to the fridge by a scooby doo magnet. Emergency phone numbers.   
The basic list of 9-1-1, the fire brigade, and the numbers of everyone on our street corner. All the parents are tight, have each others numbers, trust, and recipes for school bakeries, but there’s still a preference to which neighbor they call for a babysit and the one they call to foster their kids incase they die. The one with three underlines with the name Ms. Barnes is the one I assume they trust the most.  
I take my phone and dial the number. It rings, and rings until it stops, saying my call had been forwarded to an automatic voice message system. I hang up, check the list. The name on this one reads Mr. and Mrs. Wendler. I call, the phone rings, and rings, and I get an automatic message. I go down the list again, Mr. and Mrs. Cortez is on the list. I dial, it rings, I get the message.   
I’m about to call the fourth number on the list, Mr. and Mrs King when the house phone rings. I turn around, the table lamp on the left side of the couch holds the house phone. I crossed the gap to the carpet and look at the caller ID. To my surprise, It reads King.   
I answer, The quiet house drowned out in my right ear, to the cries of a baby and the heavy breathing on the other line.   
“Yes! Hello?” A young voice asks.  
“Uh, hi?”  
“Hi, yeah, do you happen to know where everyone’s gone?” The boy asks. “I’ve called everyone on the street and no ones picked up and I’m getting worried.” The crying continus.   
“Yeah, I’m getting worried too.” I rub my temples. Everything going haywire. “I’ve been calling people too, trying to figure out what’s going on,” The constant noise on the phone starts to get louder. “I haven’t had much luck.”  
“Oh man.” The kid grunted. “Can you take her please?” there’s talking on the other end that I can’t make out. “Well just support the head I guess!” More talking, this time more frantically. “I don’t know! it’s what my mom always says to do!”  
“Who’s with you?” I ask.  
“Who’s with me? Oh, Mikey is,” The crying is still there, just a tab quieter. “He doesn’t know where his parents are either.”  
“Damn.” I look around my house, completely empty. Somewhere on the street there’s two kids with a baby and no one watching them. If this is a joke it’s not a good one.  
“What’s your name?”  
“Anthony Jr, and yes my sister’s name is Abbie, and my mom and dad’s names are Andy and Alyssa, Big whoop!”   
“Which house are you in?” I walk away from the receiver to the window that overlooks the front yard.  
“Number two, zero, four, and… and…” A loud ring pierces through the phone. I jerk the phone away, hearing a distant alarm somewhere on the block.  
“Don’t worry,” I say into the phone. “I hear you.”  
“Can you hurry please!” Anthony shouts.  
“I will, just hang tight!”   
The call ends.  
I put the phone back into the receiver, going back into my room, throwing a quick pair of jeans and a T-shirt I wore yesterday, with a new pair of socks. I head down the hallway, into the living room, drop my phone on the kitchen counter, get to my door, get my shoes off the shoe rack, put them on and open my front door.


	2. What happened here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like i did upload later today.

What happened here?

 

 

The road is empty, every garage I can see is open, there are tire marks on the road, some doors are open, and there is a ringing down the road. I turn the noise, and make my way down.   
It’s like I’m walking in another dimension that’s exactly like my own but you notice certain things are just not the same. There are no birds. no laughter. None of the sounds you’d hear on a friday afternoon. Just a empty street with an alarm ringing out.  
I work myself into a jog. The farther I go the more I see and the more I know that something terrible has happened. Some garbage cans knocked over, a suitcase left here and there, a car parked on the sidewalk and just left. The more a pieces of the puzzle reveal themselves the bigger the picture is and the louder the alarm becomes.   
I stop at a house. 2047. I jog to the front door and knock. It opens, a kid not much younger then me, but shorter, with brown hair and eyes, with slight buck teeth as he looked at me with confusion. A dark skinned baby cries in his arms, as he held her awkwardly.   
“Please be here to help.” The boy said, barely audible over the alarm.  
“What happened here?”   
The boy turned and walked into the house leaving the door open. I followed him. The house was identical to mine, except the carpet and furniture were different. In the kitchen another boy was standing on a stool, trying to reach the fire alarm. On the stove that was turned off, a pot with something boiling in it sat.  
The boy held a screwdriver in his hand as he poked at the fire alarm, with a clash of plastic as the battery holder came loose, he quickly took the batteries out. The ringing stopped. The sounds that occupied it’s space being boiling liquid, and a crying baby.  
I moved into the kitchen and inspected the scene. There was a milk jug on the counter, opened, with splashes of milk here and there. The liquid in the pot on the stove that was settling down was milk.   
“Why were you trying to boil milk?”  
The boy on the stool jumped down. He was young, younger than the kid I just met, with small dreads, and small enough to come up to the other kids shoulder. He was out of breath and pointing at the stove.  
“My mom says that you have to boil the milk before you give it to a baby.” By his voice and hysteria, I guess he’s the Anthony i was talking on the phone with.   
“I mean, yeah, you boil the water you put the formula into but I don’t think you’re supposed to boil market milk.”  
“Well how am I supposed to know?”   
“I don’t know, how old are you?”  
“Woah,” Mickey cuts in, still holding the crying baby. “We’ve given you enough information, who are you?”  
“Kraig Corbett, and I’m guessing you’re Mikey?”  
“Mikey Laurent.” He readjusts his arm, a look of discomfort on his face. “Can you hold her?” He asks, holding his arms out.   
“I got her.” Anthony says, taking her in his arms, holding her more naturally, but not quieting her cries in the least.  
I cap the milk and put it back in the refrigerator. “Listen,” I say, turning to them. “I don’t know how to take care of babies anymore then you do, so is there like an instruction manual, or baby book?” Damn. by the looks of it, I’m the oldest here and I barely know how to take care of a animal (because I’ve never had one), let alone two kids and a baby. And by the look of confusion on their face, they don’t know how to take care of themselves, let alone boil milk. How am i supposed to figure this out?  
“If there was a book I probably would’ve gotten it by now.” Anthony says sarcastically. Mikey laughs, pointing at me. “You do know there’s not a book that tells you how to take care of a baby, what did you call it? An instruction manual?” They both burst out into bubbly laughter. I wait them out, crossing my arms, acting unbothered, because it doesn’t bother me. Just childish jokes.  
As soon as they quiet down, I raise my hands.  
“Okay listen!” I take command. “Since I’m clearly the oldest here,” I say, shooting looks at both of them. “You two listen to me, got it?” I was expecting an argue, but they just knod. Damn. I was hoping to kill time with arguing. I didn’t think I was gonna get this far.  
“Okay.” I clap my hands together and look around. “Mikey,” I point to the phone on the phone on the kitchen counter. “I want you to call all the street numbers until someone picks up.”  
“And if they don’t?” he asks, already slipping into bar stool, studying the list of numbers, while familiar, in different handwriting and order.  
“That’s when you call 9-1-1.” I turn to Anthony. “And since you know more about the kitchen, tell me where the formula is.”  
As Anthony started opening cupboards, I took the pot off the stove, bringing it to the sink. As I rinse, I look over to Mikey.   
“Any luck?”  
“No.” he says disappointingly.  
I fill the pot with water, bring it back to the stove, setting it low.  
“I got the formula!” Anthony calls, jumping off of a chair he was standing on to get to the top shelf of a cupboard. I’m pretty sure he shouldn’t be up there with a baby.  
He tosses me a purple container, brandishing a smiling baby with “Baby formula” dancing around it. As I start to read the instructions, Mikey suddenly cries out.  
“Hello?” His voice breaks.  
He listens as the voice on the other end talks.  
“I don’t know either, but-”  
I turn back to the instructions. The conversation just background noise. the container says 2 oz of water and 1 scoop of powder makes 2 oz bottle and 4 oz of water and 2 scoops of powder makes 4 oz bottle but how do i make a 3 oz? I groan, rubbing my face in frustration. I hope the person on the other line is a responsible adult and i heading over right now.  
A knock on the door. Anthony is busy with Abigail, and Mikey is still dialing numbers.   
“Who’d you call?” I don’t want to answer the door without knowing the persons name.  
“Ms. Barnes, but she didn’t pick up.”  
“Who did?”  
Mikey just shrugs and keeps dialing. “I don’t know, but he sounded okay.”  
I shake my head. Walking to the door. I open it, and to my relief, I can make eye contact without having to look down at a child. It was a kid that I’ve seen on the streets before here and there, usually handing out pamphlets and selling chocolate for some charity. Never caught his name before since my parents always answered the door when he made his rounds. My parents always answer the door.  
He’s taller than me. Probably older too, but not by much. Kinda chubby, but i’m not gonna say it out loud. His brown hair looking matted, as if he just woke up. I bet I don’t look all to good either.  
“Do you know how to take care of babies?” I ask getting to the point.  
“Uh, yeah.” I grab his by the arm and pull him into the house. “I hope you know how formula works.”  
I drag him to the stove, handing him the formula. He studies it slowly before opening it. “Do you have any measuring cups?” he asks me.   
I look to Anthony sitting on a chair with Abigail. He looks up, seeing that we turned to him. “What?” he questions.  
“Where are the measuring cups.” I repeat for the kid.  
Anthony gets up. He walks to the drawers, opening them at random. “I know they’re in a drawer somewhere.” as he looks through them, I turn to the new kid.  
“What’s your name?” I ask, trying to be as casual as the situation lets me.  
“Oh, uh,” He looks up from the container. “Ivan. Ivan Barnes.”  
“Well Ivan, do you know where everyone’s gone?”   
he shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He looks back to the container. “I just woke up and my mom’s gone, but that’s normal.” He looks around the kitchen. “Are you saying that everyone’s gone?”  
“Yep.” Mikey says, putting the phone down. “I called every number.” he sighs. His breath shaky. “You were the only one that answered,” He looks up to us, then to Anthony.   
“Everyone’s gone, except for us.”


	3. Where did they go?

“Don’t say it like that.” I walk around the counter, heading to the door. “For all we know, there was just a power outage, and we were the first one’s to get power back, so our phones are the only ones that work.” I open the door looking outside.  
“I bet if I went across the street and knocked on that door, someone would answer.”  
“You mean Caleb’s house?” Anthony walks up to me, Abigail not in his arms  
“Who’s Caleb?” I ask.  
“A kid who goes to our school.” Anthony gestures behind him. “He’s cool, but he never hanged out with us.”  
“Well,” I say, stepping outside. “If he’s cool, then he won’t mind us knocking on his door.”  
I walk on the path that cuts through the lawn, stepping onto the road. I can hear anthony following me. As I make my way across the road, the more the house in front of me looks off. The trash can was knocked over hard enough to spray garbage everywhere. The garage left open, and to my surprise, the front door was open a crack.  
“I don’t like this.” Anthony mumbled behind me.  
I walk up to the door. It’s ajar. I open it slowly.  
“What are you doing?” Anthony hisses behind me.  
“Somethings wrong here,” I say, turning to him. “I think you should go back to your house.”  
He blinks at me. He doesn’t move, and I’m not going to make him.  
I push the door open. A couple of lamps are on, and by the corner that turns into the hallway, A phone lays. I step towards it. The only sound in the house is the buzzing of the lights. I bend and pick it up. In my peripheral vision, I can see one of the doors in the hallway is wide open, giving a peek into the room, where I can see somebody laying in a bed sleeping. I open the phone, It’s password protected, but there’s an emergency alert that is displayed across the top.  
CIVIL EMERGENCY MESSAGE  
I click on it, the phone call screen comes up, I put it on speaker, it dials up, pauses, and a woman’s monotone voice says,  
“This is a Civil Emergency Message. This is not a drill. If you are in the immediate vicinity of a child, 18 and under, you must euthanize them immediately if possible. If not able to, press one for nearby medical centers with authorization to do so. A genetic outburst has been verified, and if not treated, the child will become aggressive and violent, which will lead to manslaughter. It is incurable. I repeat, This is a Civil Emergency Message. This is not a drill.”  
This is a prank. It has to be.  
The message repeats, becoming background noise to me. I look towards the sleeping body in the room. I slowly stand up, walking towards the room.  
“Kraig,” Anthony blubbers behind me. “I don’t like this.” His voice hitches.  
“Anthony,” I turn around and hand him the phone. “Go back to your house, and show the others the message.”  
“I can see him.” Anthony’s voice breaks, his eyes looking past me to the room. “It’s Caleb,” He locks eyes with me. “Is he okay?”  
I turn him around, pushing him towards the door. “I don’t know. Just go home Anthony,” He turns around and looks at me with wide eyes. “I’ll be there in a second.”  
He turns back around and walks out of the house rigid. I look back to the room. This is fake. Some sick joke by our parents to see what we’d do if they disappeared. They’re probably all hiding in this house. Yeah, they probably are.  
I opened the door closes to my right. It’s a laundry room. Empty. I turn to my left and open that door. It’s another bedroom, with a bigger bed. Other than that, empty. I look over my shoulder to the other closed door, open it, and squint. The shine off of the porcelain tub reflected into my eyes. As i look through my fingers, i see that it is indeed, empty.  
I turn around. The last room is opened.  
I step in, drawing my gaze over everything in the room. I want it to be empty. But i can’t get the smell out of my head. My eyes are watering as my I look up Caleb’s body. It’s perfectly still. I look at the back of his head, He’s facing away from the door, and I thank god that i didn’t have to see his face. The only image of this kid that I never knew, who had been my neighbor for I don’t know how long, was the back of his head...and….  
A small hole going through his skull.  
Dripping blood. Soaking the pillow and sheets.  
Oh god.  
The smell.  
I just stare. What else can I do? I can’t do anything about it. I can’t help Caleb, and I can’t help the other kids. Ivan’s there though. He can take care of them, he knows how to use formula, he’s much better help already and all I can do just stare. It’s all I’m good for now. I might stare for the rest of my life.  
What am I staring at?!  
I blink. Letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding in. Oh my god. He’s dead! Shot in his own bedroom! He didn’t even know…  
The message comes back to me suddenly.  
Did…  
Did his parents kill him? Put a gun to the back of his head and made it quick?  
What if my parents had shot me in the head while I slept? But we don’t have a gun. Is that why they didn’t? No. No, don’t be stupid. You’re overthinking, you don’t even know if Caleb’s parents did this. I don’t even know Caleb or his parents, and I never will.  
But what about my parents? Would i ever see them again? And if the message told them to… to euthanize me, why didn’t they? If Caleb’s parents listened my hadn’t mine? Why hadn’t Anthony, or Mikey, or Ivan’s parents listened?  
Why did Caleb’s listen?  
Because his parents probably loved him more than yours did. I mean, they didn’t want him to become a violent murderer. A shot in the head while asleep would be better than waking up unhinged, you heard that message. If I had the possibility of going crazy and killing everyone, I’d rather take a bullet in the head then become a murderer, just like everyone else, and just like your parents. Bet they couldn’t think of you of some rabid animal like everyone else's parents which is what saved you, but now you’ll just go unhinged and become the murderer Caleb’s parents prevented but yours couldn’t.  
But i’m not unhinged.  
You might become unhinged. Hell, Anthony or Mikey could become unhinged. Could you kill a kid? What about a baby?  
Stop it.  
What about Ivan? He’s taller than you, older most likely. If he becomes unhinged, it’s not a question of whether you would kill him, but if you even could.  
I can handle myself.  
What about those kids? They’re in the house all alone, with someone who could snap their necks, smash a chair over them, and you saw those kids. Can’t even find measuring cups.  
Shut up!  
And what about yourself? You’re getting pretty angry right now. How do you know you’re not gonna walk into that house kill someone? Maybe you should just smash your head in before you hurt someone.  
I’m not gonna hurt anyone!  
And I bet Caleb’s parents weren’t gonna put a bullet in his head 12 hours ago, but as you can see, you can’t shoot the messenger, only your kid.

“Oh my god!” Someone shouts behind me.  
I whirl around. It’s Ivan. Behind him in the hall, Anthony and Mikey wait. In the bedroom that just got a lot smaller, Ivan seems bigger than ever. If he just went crazy, could I protect myself?  
“What the hell happened?” He looks to me. I’m suddenly out of breathe. “What do you think happened?” I barely whisper, coming out way more shaky then I wanted it to. I walk out of the room, past Anthony and Mikey, who still holds the baby. Could I kill them if I needed to protect myself? I step outside. The empty silence of nothing but trees blowing in the wind is what sets me off. I drop to my knees and heave right in the yard of a dead kid. I vomit the last of my nights dinner. I let the last of it drool out. If it came to it, if I could see it coming… would I be able to kill myself?  
I sit up finally. Ivan comes up to me and offers me his hand. I take it, pulling myself up. He’s pale, probably fighting the urge the vomit as well. He looks at me, seeming to size me up. He’s thinking the same thing as me. An understanding passes between us, and that just shakes him more. He turns from me to the kids, still in the doorway.  
“Go back to house,” He thinks for just a second. “Stay there, and I’ll be back. I need to check the rest of the houses.”  
“I’ll check with you.” I volunteer.  
“Are you sure you want to?”  
“Yes. I’m fine.” Again, it comes out more shaky than I want it to. I need to get it together.  
“I’ll go too.” Anthony speaks up.  
“Me too.” Mikey adds.  
“And how old are you two?” Ivan asks.  
“Ten.” Anthony says.  
“Twelve.” Mikey says as well, but proudly.  
“How about you?” Ivan addresses to me. “Fourteen.”  
“Well, i’m fifteen, and checking the houses is clearly a thirteen and up job, so,” He gestures to the house. “Go.”  
They don’t argue, they just go, like he asks.  
“Why do we need to check the houses?” I ask.  
“In case anyone else is alive, or…” he looks at me. “You don’t have to check with me you know.”  
“I do.” And I leave it at that. I turn and walk down to the next house. “I’ll go left, you go right.”  
I turn back and look at him. We’ll meet back here, and discuss what we’ve found.” I look back at house 2047. “Not in front of them though.”  
“If we find anything, they deserve to know.”  
“Yeah but they don’t need to know at ten years old about how their friends dead with a bullet in his head!”  
He just looks at me. Looks at me like he’s judging whether to put a bullet in my head. I shake my head. “You listened to the alert right?”  
“Yeah.” He says, looking down at his feet. “I don’t think I can just go crazy, or ever hurt-”  
“No Ivan, you kill them.” he looks up at that. “If you go crazy like they said, you don’t just hurt them a bit, you heard what they said on the alert.” My heart suddenly hurts. “If those kids,” No. “if I go unhinged, it’s kill or be killed whether we want it to be or not.” He just stares as if actually do have a bullet in my head. “And if you start going crazy,” I lick my lips at this. It’s easy discussing killing something when they’re across the street, but not when their right in front of you.  
What am I talking about? No ones killing anyone!  
But they might.  
“They deserve to know that too.” Ivan says suddenly. “Even if they are younger, they deserve to know the stakes.”  
“Well a lot of kids deserve a puppy, doesn’t mean they need one.”  
“It’s better for them to know now, then when-if we go crazy, or if they go crazy, or.. Or-” He runs his hand through his hair, distressed.  
I cross my arms and think.  
If we tell the kids that there’s a chance we’d have to kill them over something they have no control over, that would ruin them, but is innocence better to hold over survival? Hell, what about their mental state? Knowing that you can’t even trust yourself is just...Not something a kid should feel!  
I finally breathe out. “We’ll talk about it later, but for right now, we need to see if anyone else is alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a third chapter for anyone who wants it


	4. What we have left

I stumble through the street. I expect to get back to the meeting point to find nothing, but Ivan is there, sitting on the curb. He hears my shoes scraping the pavement and looks up. The sun is close to setting, lighting up the streets automatic street lamps. The orange light reflects the shiny tear streaks on his face, his face looking sickly, and by the look of worry on his face when he sees me, tells me I mirror his distress.  
I sit down next to him, the pavement cool underneath my palms. We don’t speak.  
“What did you find.” I break the all to comfortable silence, knowing that the words that are about to be spoken need to be said.  
“They’re all dead.” he whispers.  
“I know.” I nod.  
Some houses were empty. Rushed out of in a hurry. Those houses were the best I could find, because if they weren’t empty, they had someone in it, and the fact that Ivan is alone, confirms my worst fears.  
Were the only ones who made it.  
While I’ve only ever made friends at school, and not around the neighborhood, It still took everything I had to not just sit and cry at the familiar faces. Some bludgeoned, some shot like Caleb, one I found had a snapped neck. All of them children. Children i knew. Hell, i’m a child!  
I realize I’ve been talking out loud when my voice hitches. I turn away, trying to wipe my face clean, but I just couldn’t stop crying.  
“I found the Pauls.” Ivan says, looking at his shoes. “All four of them.” His shoulders shudder. I remember the Pauls. They moved here a couple years ago. Their oldest should be eight if i remember right. “All of them had,” He swallows. “Had taken pills, I found the bottle.” I look to his shoes as well. A red splatter that wasn’t there before sticks out. “Mrs. Paul was still alive.”  
“Ivan?” I ask him.  
“As soon as I found her, her eyes just flew open, and she just-”  
He hiccups. A tear drops on his shoe. I slowly wrap my arm around his shoulder. It’s little comfort but it’s all I can offer, as he buries his face into my shoulder. He cries softly, and the only thing i can do is let him.  
He finally sniffs, lifting his head and staring into nothing. I look at him. His face has scratch marks. His right eye was swollen slightly, and he had a bruise forming on his jaw line.  
“I pushed her away, but she just came back, and then I pushed her again, and- I-” he hiccups.  
“I pushed too hard.”  
He sniffs, finally looking at me.  
“She hit the coffee table and it shattered, and I just left.” he chokes.  
“Is she-”  
“I didn’t check.”  
The sun was slowly setting to this awful day, but I knew it would just start a awful night.


	5. Mrs. Paul

We’re back in Anthony’s house.   
It’s 4:33. I didn’t know me and Ivan were searching (Crying) for that long.  
“What do we do now?’ Mikey asks. Anthony walks back into the room from putting Abigail to bed.   
“I’m hungry.” Anthony said, going into the kitchen, searching the cupboards.  
“I think it’s too late to go out tonight looking for our parents,” I say, catching a packet of crackers anthony throws at me. “We just need to hunker down for the night, and figure something out tomorrow.”  
“Can we all stay together?” Mikey asks, opening his crackers. “I don’t feel comfortable in my house alone.”   
“I still think that’s fucked up of your parents to take your brother and leave you.” Anthony quips, sitting down.  
“Do your parents let you talk like that?” Ivan questions, popping a cracker into his mouth.  
“Hell no, but I could have bit it last night if my parents decided to kill me, so i’m not gonna waste my time on ‘heck’ or ‘frig’, you know?”  
“Yeah, Fuck it.” Mikey adds nonchalantly.   
I look at Ivan, looking for what to do, but he looks just as confused as me. Part of me wants to tell them off, but given the circumstances, I don’t want to be that guy.   
“Fuck it?” I ask Ivan.  
He thinks for a moment before nodding. “Fuck it.” he concludes.  
Mikey snorts, which sets off Anthony into a fit of giggles. We sit there for awhile, eating crackers and laughing. One of the better moments of our day.

We set up for bed. Mikey and Anthony will both sleep in Anthony’s room, while me and Ivan share the living room.  
“Here are the blankets from my parents room.” Anthony says, dropping a heap of blankets on the ground. “Hope you like getting up at five am.” and with that, he retires to his room.  
“Why would be getting up at five am?” I ask Ivan, picking up a blanket.  
“They got a baby in the house. They usually wake up pretty early.” Ivan picks up a blanket for himself. “You can have the couch.” he offers, dumping his blanket on the nearby club chair.  
“How do you know so much about babies?” I lay my blanket on the couch, going to turn the lights off.  
“I volunteered at a hospital for a few years.” he sits in the chair with his legs dangling over one of the arms, as he leaned on the other arm. “I usually took care of the infants since there’s not much else you can do in a hospital without a medical degree.”  
“Why’d you stop volunteering?”  
“I had to crack down on my schoolwork, and it was just getting in the way i guess.”  
“I never see you in my school.” I lay down on the couch, facing him. “Which school do you go to?”  
“None of them, I’m homeschooled.”   
“Oh, do you take online classes?”  
“Yeah, I do math, biology, and history online while I do reading and writing with my mom.”  
“Did you ever plan to go into public schools?”  
He sinks into the chair at the question. “I was pretty close to convincing my mom into letting me go into public. She was always scared that something would happen and I’d get hurt or something. But after today with everything that’s happened, I don’t think she ever going to let me go.”  
“Damn, sorry.”  
“Don’t be. I can’t miss what I can’t experience, you know?”  
“I guess so.”  
We sit in silence. It’s a comfortable silence though. He just looks at me, and I just look at him, taking in his features, since with the circumstances that have arisen, we could wake up crazy.   
Nothing but a rabid murder hungry shell of what’s left. This is the day we meet, and tomorrow might be the day when I’d have to…  
It should be easier. I mean, I barely know him. We met today, shouldn’t that make it easier? With the kids I understand it. I mean, they’re just kids. Probably not even thinking of whether or not they could take us out if the situation arose. But with Ivan…  
He’s a person. Yeah that’s why it’s hard to think about it.  
Damn.   
I snicker for no reason. My eyes start watering, but no tears come.  
“Are you okay?” Ivan asks.  
I continue laughing. “This entire situation is nuts don’t you think?” I stop laughing, smiling at him. “You know after this,” I say, sliding down the couch laying down. “We need to hang out more.”  
“I don’t think my mom would let me.” he said, also getting more comfortable on the chair.   
“Who said my parents would let me either?”  
We both laugh quietly. We fall into a warm silence. Damn.  
I look up to the ceiling. It’s identical mine, and I can almost feel as if i’m sleeping in my own living room. I look back at Ivan, who hasn’t even stop looking at me. I smile at that. I don’t know why. He could be turning crazy right this moment and there is nothing I can-  
No. enough for tonight. All i want to do, is make it till morning.  
Little did I know that would be a challenge. 

 

“Kraig!” A voice angrily whispered. I open my eyes, it’s still dark. After a moment of confusion, I register where I am, and what happened today. I shake away all of my thoughts and look to my left and see Ivan on the ground. He’s looking straight ahead.   
“What is it?” I ask groggily, rubbing my eyes.  
He raises a shaky finger to the window. “It’s Mrs. Paul!”  
My eyes shoot to the window. Just outside, looking in, Mrs. Paul stood. Her eyes were wide with hate, her teeth gritted. Her hair matted, and out of the usual bun I would see her in, cascading down her shoulders like black tentacles. I could see a shard of glass sticking out of her arm.   
“What do we do?” I turn to Ivan. He’s blubbering quietly, saying ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again.  
“Ivan!” I hiss. His head jerks to me. As soon as we make eye contact, I look back to Mrs. Paul, her arms raising slowly. “Ivan, go and get Anthony and Mikey,”  
“I’m not leaving you alone in here!” I snap my eyes back to him.  
“This isn’t a time to be arguing! Go get them!” A bang makes me jump. We both look back at Mrs. Paul, gaping as she slams her fists against the window again.   
I stand up, walking backwards into the kitchen. Remembering Anthony looking through them. The utensil drawer is the second one closes to the fridge. Another bang. I turn around and open the drawer, grabbing a butcher knife. I whip back around, Ivan is still on the ground staring at her. Another bang.  
“What’s going on?” It’s Anthony. He takes one look around then freezes. Damn it, the last thing I need for him to do!  
“Anthony, go get Mikey!”   
“What’s going on?!” He shouts. Before I can answer him, Mrs. Paul muffled scream is heard. It’s a piercing hate screech. She slams the window again. It cracks.  
“Anthony!” that gets his attention. He turns around, screaming Mikey’s name, running back to the room.  
“Ivan!” he doesn’t seem to hear me. Mrs. Paul is still screaming. I run to him, grabbing his shoulder as Mrs. Paul raises both fists.  
“Get up!”  
His head turns around so fast, I can hear it pop. He jumps up, grabbing my hand as I pull him back.   
Just in time to save him from shower of glass as Mrs. Paul shatters the window. Her screams fill my ear. I barely have time to react before she jumps through the window, bounding toward me.   
I’m shoved to the side before she makes contact. I fall on my side, Turning my head to see Mrs. Paul slam into Ivan. He keeps steady for a moment before he topples over. Mrs. Paul on top of him, wrapping her fingers around his throat.  
“No!” I scream. I dart up, the knife still in my hand. Out of pure instinct, I drive it into her shoulder, she shrieks but still doesn’t let go.   
“Move!” a voice behind me shouts.  
I jump out of the way just in time to not get hit with a spiderman themed lamp. It smashes into her back. She cries out again, finally letting go of Ivan and standing up.  
She looks to Mikey and Anthony standing at the end of the hallway where they threw the lamp. She takes one step before I jump on her back. I’m not letting her go after those kids!  
I can feel the handle the knife jam into my shoulder. I grab it, sliding it out of her shoulder. She screams, bucking me backwards and away. I keep my footing, and my grip on the knife.  
Ivan’s up. He holds a curved shard of glass from the lamp. I can see his fingers tighten around it, blood dripping from his fingers as he cuts himself, shakily holding the shard. I grip the handle tighter. We circle her, as if she’s prey and not a human. We confuse her. She hesitates, trying to chose who to go after.  
Mikey makes the decision for her.   
He comes screaming down the hallway, weilding a chair. Mrs. Paul turns around and is met with the legs of the chair. Mikey smashes the chair into her face. She falls onto her back. I don’t hesitate. I pounce on her, stabbing her neck. I hold the knife there. Watching her weakly try push me off. Her hands fall, and her eyes roll back. She breathes out finally.   
She’s dead and I killed her.  
I get up slowly, leaving the knife in her neck, with no strength to pull it out. I turn around to find Mikey and Anthony staring at me. Anthony looks scared. Mikey looks almost relieved. Ivan just stares at Mrs. Paul’s body, squeezing the shard glass, blood oozing from his hand. I look back at Mrs. Paul. A pool of blood is slowly forming.  
“We can’t stay here tonight. Get Abigail. Were going to my house.”  
It took a few moments before Anthony goes into his baby sisters room. I tell Mikey to grab all the formula, because we’re not coming back to this house. Ivan’s still staring at Mrs. Paul. I hear the glass shard snap in half in his hand.  
“It’s my fault.” he whispers, dropping the pieces of bloody glass.


	6. Nothing to do now

Were back at my house. I thought being back would make me feel better, but it doesn’t, it just makes me miss my parents more than anything.  
“You and Abigail can have my room.” I tell Anthony. “There’s a sleeping bag under my bed that you can use.” I offer Mikey. They both retire to my bedroom. I’m about to offer the couch to Ivan before I remember that it’s uncomfortable to sit on, let alone sleep on. Not to mention his hand is still gashed open. I’ll take the couch, he can have my parents room.  
“Come on.” I pull on Ivan’s good arm.  
I take him into my parent’s bedroom. The beds still unmade, and their bathroom door is still open. Just the way I left it.  
I drag him into the bathroom, flipping the light on and gesturing to the closed toilet.  
“Sit.” I tell him. He sits obediently, his eyes staring into nothing. I open the drawers, finding the hydrogen peroxide and bandages, along with bandaids  
I sit on the tub across from Ivan. were a few inches away, I set the bandages to my side, taking the peroxide in my right hand, holding Ivan’s cut hand in my left. I can feel the warm blood stick to my palm.  
“This going to hurt.” I warn Ivan. He doesn’t look up.  
I pour the peroxide into his hand. He hisses and tries to bring his hand away, but I hold firm. I feel the peroxide drip on my feet as it splashes over his palm.  
“Hold still, I told you it would sting.”  
I stand up, putting the peroxide on the counter, and taking a towel off the rack. I sit back down, letting the peroxide set into the cut for a few moments. Ivan just stares at it.  
“How did this happen to me?” he asks as I dry his hand, gasping when press into his cut with the towel.  
“You held a glass shard so tight you shattered it.”  
After a moment all he can say is “It was my fault.”   
I look up at him. He slowly draws his gaze up to my eyes.  
“If I hadn’t woken her up, or angered her, she wouldn’t have come, and you wouldn’t have had to…” He sputters, losing control and I pull him close. He cries into my shoulder once again and I feel older than ever.  
“It’s not your fault.” I say, still holding his hand, rubbing his back. “If you hadn’t found her and knocked her out, she would have just come earlier.” He sits back up, looking into my eyes, and I look into his. His eyes glisten with tears, and his face tear streaked. “It’s not your fault. It’s no ones fault.”  
“Maybe she wouldn’t have been so angry if I hadn’t shoved her though.”  
“She was angry when she woke up, right?”  
He nods. “I don’t know why she was so angry.”  
“Losing your entire family can do that to you.”  
I bandage the gash in the middle of his palm. The cuts on his fingers were small enough to not need band aids, so he didn’t have to parade around scooby doo themed ones. I stand up, offering my hand. He takes it and stands up too. I lead him out of the bathroom and gesture to my parent’s bed.  
“You can have it, I’ll sleep on the couch.”  
“Kraig?”  
I turn around rubbing my eyes.  
“I don’t want to be alone right now, can you…” He shakes his head and grunts. “I don’t want to seem like a wuss.”  
“It’s okay.”  
I told myself I’d just sit on the bed until he fell asleep. Maybe lay down with him. It didn’t go as I expected.   
The only light was coming from the lamp on my side of the bed. It smells like my parents. I’m facing Ivan and he’s facing me. It’s the warm silence again. It blankets over my exhaustion, and I can feel my eyes grow heavy. Before they can, I turn around and turn off the light. I turn back around to see Ivan fast asleep. I follow suit before I can even think about how easily he could choke me to death if he woke up crazy.   
And this time, I make it to morning without interruption.


	7. Who's fault is it?

The sun is shining through my parents window. The cloudy day that gave the room a grey tint is replaced with a warm orange one. I sit up and stretch. Turn to Ivan. He’s still sleeping. He hugs the pillow, sleeping soundlessly. I can only make out his soft breathing. I can see a stray hair covering his face. I get an urge to move it out of the way. My hand brushes the hair back. It’s enough to make him stir but not wake.  
I get out of bed, stepping into the hallway and checking my room to find it empty. The sleeping bag spread open all the way on the floor. I make my way down the hallway, stopping at the bathroom to pee. I finish, wash my hands, and walk out into the living room. Anthony is in the chair, messing with the remote. Mikey is sitting at the table, feeding Abigail.  
“None of the channels work. Were offline.” Anthony announces sullenly. I’m not surprised.  
“We took care of Abigail before she woke you guys up.” Mikey says, burpring Abigail.  
“Well thanks. I’ll make breakfast.”  
The only thing I really know how to cook is eggs, and even then I’m shit at flipping them. Looks like we’re having scrambled eggs.  
As I’m cooking, Ivan comes in.  
“How’s your hand?” I ask him.  
He looks at it questionably. “Fine, I can still feel it which is pretty good.”  
“Yeah but how does it feel? Does it hurt, does it feel fine?”  
“I guess it kinda hurts.”  
“We’ll look at it later, then figure out what we’re going to do.”  
I set the eggs out on four plates. “If they’re a little burnt or a little too salty, sorry.” I shrug.  
They eat. I can’t help but look for their reactions to my cooking. Might fuck around and poison the next meal if they don’t like it.  
To my surprise, after a few moments, they dig in. like really dig in. But, probably because of the fact the only thing we had to eat yesterday was a packet of crackers.  
“Should I make seconds?”  
All they can do is nod, still chewing.  
I go through the whole carton, going easier on the salt, and turning the burner down lower with each batch, trying to make it good. They don’t seem to notice, they just keep eating. I eat too, but my feelings are hurt. That is until Mikey speaks up.  
“Don’t tell my mom, but your eggs are way better than hers.”  
“Thanks.” I smile to myself.  
“No, really! I’m pretty sure the last time I had her eggs, it tasted more like chicken then yolk.”  
“Well, thank you.” I say genuinely.  
This is the first time i’ve had to cook for people who weren’t my parents. I don’t know if that reassures me they’re not lying or not. But i choose to believe they’re telling the truth.  
While we’re eating breakfast, a ding rings out. I recognize it. Looking up, I see my phone on the counter. I had forgotten about leaving it there.   
I get up and walk to the counter, standing in front of it. I pick up my phone. It’s almost dead, just at 30%. I got a notification. My eyes read over a number I don’t recognize.  
“Who is it?” Anthony asks.  
“I don’t know.” I swipe the screen, taking me to the home page. I click on messages, reading the most recent one.  
“It’s an address.” I do a quick search of it, but come up with nothing since the internet doesn’t work still.  
“Where too?”  
“I don’t know.” I sit back down at the table. They crowd around me getting a look at my screen.  
“Can’t you google it?” Anthony asks.  
“I tried, I don’t have internet.”  
“How are we supposed to find it then?”  
“Do you have a map?” Mikey cuts in.   
“Of the city?” I ask. “Yeah, my dad has one.”  
“Well, go get it!”  
We all get up. They follow me into my parents room. I get to the ground and start pulling boxes from underneath my parent’s bed.  
“It should be in one of these…” I think back to when I was young. I remember my dad showing me the map thinking it keep me interested. When i got bored with it, he put it back in a yellow box…  
There are two yellow boxes. I shove the other ones aside, pulling the yellow ones more in my reach.   
“One of these two…” I remember the having numbers on it I think…  
I turn the box right in front of me around, finding writing on the side. ‘Memories.’ not that one, so it has to be the other one…  
I grab the other box. It has the date of 1993. I flip it open. I cough at the dust, my nose starting to burn. Damn allergies. It’s filled with pictures. The one on top looks to be my grandma and grandpa on a boat. The date in the corner reads 2006. I remember my dad was born in 2007. Strange how in just a few months my grandma would carry a baby that would go on to make his own which would turn out to me. Crazy.   
I set it aside. Looking through the box. I remove another picture and see a rolled up piece of paper to the side. I tug it out.   
“I think I found it!” I announce to the others who are still behind me. They all get on their knees as I unroll the paper on the ground. Mikey leans over the farthest.  
“We live right here right?” He asks, pointing to a spot on the map.  
“I thought you were the map expert.” Anthony quips.  
“I said I knew how to read maps, not that I was an expert!”  
“Hey, arguing isn’t gonna help!” I snap.   
They go quiet. Mikey points again at the same place. “I’m pretty sure were here.”  
“Okay, now how do we get from where we are,” I take my phone out, opening the message, and laying it on the map. “Too here?”  
Mikey studies the map for a few moments.   
“Well, if the address is correct,” Mikay says, drawing his finger over the map slowly. “Then we should head towards Huron, I’m pretty sure that’s where the address is located.”  
“Why would it be in the woods?” Anthony questions.  
“That’s where the address says it is.”   
“Well what even is the address?”  
“What do you mean?” I ask.  
“Like, is it a house, is it a building, a log cabin?” Anthony shakes his head. “It’s in the woods, which is already suspicious. Not to mention it’s an address from a number we don’t know, and for all we know, we’re walking into a trap.”  
“Why would they want to trap us?” I ask.  
“Did you forget?” Mikey turns to me. “We can snap. Go crazy. Go on a murdering spree!”  
I did forget.  
“Right.”  
“Have you tried calling the number?” Ivan speaks up.   
“No actually.” I pick my phone up, calling the number, and putting it on speaker. It rings, and rings. As soon as I think it’s going to go to voicemail, someone picks up.  
“Please! Please help me!” A woman screams on the other line.   
“Whoever you are, tell them! Tell them it’s not-” She stops. Her breathing starts to quicken before she whispers into the phone.   
“We got it wrong.” She swallows. “It’s not the kids, it’s the adults.” She whispers. She seems to stop breathing. In the background, I can hear footsteps.  
“Caller ID: 2137, station, Howards Massachusetts.” Her voice hitches as she starts to cry. “I’m so sorry. If you’re out there Logan, I hope you come across the angriest monster out there, and I hope it’ll be your wife!” She gasps. My phone shakes as a scream pierces through the speakers.   
It hangs up. A few beeps and her shrill voice replays.   
“Please! Please help me!”  
I hang up. “It’s a repeat.”  
“What did she say?” Ivan asks. “That it’s not us, it’s the adults?”  
“Guess so.”  
He seems to breathe a sigh of relief. Relief that washes over all of us for just a moment.   
Then the reality of the situation hit us.  
“Does that mean that everyone on our street-”  
“Shut up Mikey.” Anthony cuts him off.  
Mikey’s voice shakes. “That means they didn’t have to…”  
I get up, taking the map with me but leaving my phone, letting it slide off of it as I lift it up. The room is suddenly to cramped and I can’t breath.  
“Kraig?” Ivan calls for me, but I’m already in the living room. I set the map on the coffee table and grab the landline. I dial 9-1-1. It should have been the first thing we did. It goes to voicemail and I throw it at the wall. It scatters into different pieces on the kitchen hardwood.   
No remotes on the hardwood.  
I want to scream but I know it won’t help.  
Throwing the remote didn’t help.  
What? Did you want me to throw the baby?  
I look at the couch and see Abigail sleeping, being supported by the arm of the chair. I pick her up and cradle her, trying not to wake her up.  
Ivan and the rest of them come in.  
“Who thought it was a good idea to prop the baby on the sofa?” I look all of them in the eye.  
“Me. sorry.” Of course it’s Mikey.  
I step forward and he takes a step back. I look at him confused, but the look on his face just shows… what? Worry?  
Fear.  
I step back from him. I turn to Anthony, putting Abigail in his arms. He quickly takes her. I turn and grab Ivan by his shoulder, pulling him back to my parents room.  
“We gotta check your hand.”  
“Yeah sure.” He agrees.  
Mikey and Anthony stay in the living room. Good.  
I sit Ivan back on the toilet in my parents room. The bandage on his hand has blood soaked through it. I start unwrapping it, breathing out a breathe I didn’t know I was holding.  
“Are you okay?” Ivan asks.  
I stop unwrapping, looking back at Ivan. He suddenly becomes blurred. I blink, and a tear rolls down my face.   
“Damn it, sorry.” I wipe at my eyes with my arm.   
“It’s okay, it’s just the stress and everything.” Ivan tries to explain.  
“Yeah but crying about it isn’t helping and neither is yelling or,” I can’t stop crying. Damn it!  
“I just,” I keep sputtering like a baby. “Damn it!”  
I stand up and slam my hand on the counter.   
That’s not helping either  
Well there’s nothing better to do!  
“Kraig?” It’s Ivan. He’s stood up. He’s not even that taller than me. Hell, he’s not even that older than me. He probably thinks I’m throwing a fit. I haven’t cried like this since I was five, I need to pull it together and-  
Ivan puts his hand on my shoulder. I finally pull my eyes from the counter and look at Ivan. I look down at the hand hanging to his side, wrapped in bandages with a few loose wraps. I sniff, then push him back down to the toilet, his hand slipping off my shoulder as he sits back down.  
I turn away from him, opening the drawer with the peroxide and bandages. I shouldn’t have let him seen me cry. Hell, I shouldn’t have let him see me cry in front of Caleb’s house. Probably thinks i’m a big baby.  
Caleb. A kid that didn’t even have to die.   
No one had to die!  
I turn back around and sit on the edge of the tub, facing Ivan but only looking at his hand. I unwrap the rest, throwing the bloody bandages in the trash next to the toilet. I hold his hand. It has a giant gash on the palm. His finger have cuts too, but they’re not that deep. The gash on his palm is already callused over with dried blood. I don’t need the peroxide, setting it in the tub behind me. I’m lightly bandaging his hand, when he breathes in sharply.  
“Sorry.” I can barely whispers.  
“Are you okay Kraig?”   
I look up at him. He suddenly goes red faced.   
“I mean obviously not with this entire situation but we’re in this together you know! So if you need to talk or something...” He stutters.  
I laugh a little, wiping another tear off my face.   
“I’m okay Ivan. I’m not hurt and I’m not the one with the giant cut on his palm.”  
“Yeah but my cut can heal in a couple days.”  
“Then that’s good.” I sniff.  
“Yeah, for my cut, but not for my heart.”  
“What are you talking about Ivan?”  
He starts to say something, then closes his mouth.   
“I think we should go to the address.” he finally said.  
“Why?”  
“Because it could be a shelter, maybe a place where we can get baby food.”  
“Don’t tell me we’ve already ran out!”  
“Almost. And I don’t want to know what could happen if we don’t have food, and no ones back yet.”  
I don’t answer. He’s right. But we don’t know how far the message has reached. Let alone if anyone called the number and heard the message. For all we know, we’d be walking into a death trap. But the baby does need food, and we’ll already be heading towards that direction when we go into town to get food…  
“Fine. we’ll go there.” I breathe out. “When do you think should be the right time?”  
“Today.”  
“Why today?”  
“Because I can’t stand this neighborhood anymore. No one’s coming back, and we can’t live off of eggs, even if they are pretty good.”  
I scoff, looking down and see that I’m still holding his hand. He catches my eye and looks down too. We sit in silence for a few moments before I pull my hands away.   
“Sorry.” I mumble.  
“You’ve said sorry enough today.”  
“Maybe,” I look towards the open door. “But I don’t think I’ve said it enough to the people who need to hear it.”  
“You want to go and say something?”  
“No, not today.” I breathe in, suddenly wanting to take his hand again. “My parents taught me that even if you’re in the wrong, you always apologize two days later so they know you pondered it long enough.”  
“Well,” Ivan said, tearing my attention away from the door. “You were in the right with me, and you apologized before a minute went by.”  
“That’s different.”  
“How so?”  
“It’s because it’s a small thing, like-” Holding your hand for too long “-Accidentally wrapping your hand too tight, but yelling at them and making them-” Scared of you “-Worry even more than they are now, it’s just something you can’t apologize for at that moment because you’re using that moment to realize you fucked up!”  
I look at Ivan, waiting for him to say it. “That’s kinda weird.” “Are you sure you’re not just a jerk?” “Well, my parents didn’t teach me that so you’re parents are obviously bad parents!”  
“Okay. that makes sense.” Ivan scratches his chin. “I mean, I sometimes do that, but it’s always accidental, like I miss the chance to say it.”  
“It’s never not accidental.”  
“Well, it makes sense.” Ivan leans in closer than we already are. “How about we wait one day? I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t notice a day’s difference.”  
“Okay, I’ll apologize tomorrow.” Considering with this plan, we probably won’t have two days.


	8. The plan

We come out into the living room to see Mikey and Anthony looking over the map. Abigails in Anthony’s arms, happily being bounced.  
“I think I figured it out.” Mikey points at the map. “We are here, and if we go into town and go south, we could be there in a couple days, maybe hours if one of us can drive,” He looks hopefully to Ivan, who shakes his head.  
“I don’t even have my permit.”  
“Okay, then we can probably go on foot.”  
“Me and Kraig talked and we think it would be best to leave today before we run out food.”  
“We can do that, but it’s cold out and I left my jacket in my house, and I am not going back in there!”  
“You can borrow one of my old jackets!” Mikey suggests.  
“Yeah, but all your old ones got holes in them.”  
“What about the one my mom bought that was too small for me? My mom didn’t throw it away because “she doesn’t like wasting!”.”  
“She wouldn’t have to waste if she actually bought the jacket, so she’s kind of a hypocrite.”  
“You don’t even know what hypocrite means, so stuff it!”  
“I do too know what hypocrite means!”  
“Oh yeah? What does it mean then?”  
“Hey, hey!” I put my hands up. “Can he use the jacket or not?”  
“He’d have to try it on.”  
“Then go get the jacket, and when you get back, we should have everything packed for a trip that takes a few days.”  
“Got it!”  
They both jump up off the couch, heading out the door and down the street with Abigail.  
“Guess we better start packing food.”

I got my backpack out of my room, dumping it of all my school work. I set it back in the kitchen and tell Ivan to fill it with the canned food that’s in the cupboard next to the sink. I go back into my room and fish through my closet, finding another old backpack, after checking it to make sure it’s empty, I take it into the laundry room, where my parents keep most of the canned food. I look around the laundry room. To my left, the washing machine and dryer, with a shelf over them, holding the detergent and bleach. To my right, the big plastic bin that holds a bunch of cans.  
It took me only a couple minutes to check the some of the can’s date, and fill the backpack full, with still half of the cans in the bin. I zip the backpack up and sling it over my shoulders. It’s heavy, but it’s better than it being it light. Do we need water? Better to ask now than complain later.  
I go back into my room, finding two more backpacks. One is smaller than the other ones I’ve found. It’s the one I used in the second grade when I was seven. Doesn’t mean we can’t use it to hold the formula and a few water bottles.  
I take the sleeping bag that’s on my floor and roll it up. I stuff it into the bigger backpack. I fold a few of my blankets and pack them in as well. There’s no guarantee we won't be out in the open without a roof over our heads.  
I come back into the kitchen with both of the backpacks. Ivan is still putting the cans into the backpack. He’s see’s me come in, saying “That was fast!”  
“Where’s the baby formula?” I ask him. He points to the counter. There’s only two containers left.  
“That’s not enough for a trip that’s going to take days!”  
“That’s why I’ve only been picking cans without chunks in it, so the baby can have something to eat even if we run out.”  
“Can babies even drink soup?”  
“Let’s hope we don’t have to find out.”  
A few minutes later, when we’ve done packing, Anthony comes in wearing a black and yellow jacket that’s just a bit too big. Mikey follows up with Abby in his arms, wearing a red hoodie under a blue button up sweater. Abby is bundled up even more in another white blanket. I pass the small backpack to Mikey.  
“That has the baby food, so don’t lose it.”  
He nods then slips the backpack on, handing the now sleeping Abby to Anthony.  
“When are we gonna head out?” Mikey asks.  
“As soon as me and Ivan get a jacket.” I go back down the hallway and into my room, looking back into my closet. After looking through it for a few moments I find a black jacket with a few green stripes on it. I zip it up and slip the backpack back over my shoulders.  
I come back into the kitchen to find Mikey and Anthony alone.  
“Wheres Ivan?” I ask.  
“He went back to his house to get a jacket.” Anthony answers.  
“He’s Ms. Barnes’ kid right?”  
“Yeah, she lives past my house, but I don’t know the specifics.”  
“Got it, stay here.”  
I walk out of the house and down the street just as Mikey and Anthony had just done. I walk past Anthony’s house, and keep walking. I come up to the front of the street a few minutes later. I’m pretty sure I went to far. I turn back around and head the street again.  
As I’m passing Anthony’s house for the second time, I notice the door to the house is open. I don’t remember leaving the door open when we left last night.  
I slowly approach the door. I see a tiny gardening shovel sticking out of the ground in the flower bead that’s right next to the door. I take it out. If Mrs. Paul is still alive and comes at me, I may not have a great weapon, but it’s better than no weapon.  
I open the door slowly and silently. I didn’t know what I had expected, but it wasn’t Ivan just standing there  
“Ivan?”  
He turns around. Seeing me with a tiny garden shovel and probably confusion over my face. But his had tears. He quickly turns away from me and Mrs. Paul, wiping a now sleeved arm over his face. He had a Blue jacket on, with a few patches of a darker blue to give it more of a design.  
I step in and walk straight to Ivan, dropping the tiny garden shovel. I turn him around to face me. He doesn’t look at me, he just looks at Mrs. Paul.  
“It’s not my fault right?” He cries. “She was a crazy, probably didn’t feel anything right? Right?”  
“I don’t know Ivan.” I said, looking back to Mrs. Paul lifeless body that already started to smell.  
I turn back to Ivan he looks at me with tears in his eyes and out of breath. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, and he wraps his arms around me. I hug him for a few seconds, then slipped my arms off of his shoulders, grabbing his hands and leading him out. I almost have him out the door when he turns around, and quietly says “Sorry.”  
I shut the door behind us and walk him back to my house.


	9. To push on

“Okay, so we head into town which I’m pretty sure we all know how to do, then head south, keeping to the roads and we should be there.” Mikey explains, holding the map.  
We’re walking down our street. I still think what we’re doing is a bad idea, but there’s nothing else we can do. Mikey has the backpack with the formula while Anthony has the backpack with the sleeping bag and blankets. I don’t trust Mikey with the formula, but that was the only backpack empty enough that he could fit the map in it.  
“When we get into town,” Mikey continuous. “There might be people who can help us.”  
“And what if there is no people? Or the people are crazy and want us dead?” Anthony jabs.  
“Guess we’ll die.” Ivan mumbled behind us. He’s been dragging behind, holding the baby and not saying much since I brought him back from the house.  
“Isn’t that a reference to something?” Anthony turns around.  
“I don’t know, it’s just something my mom always said when she didn’t know what to do.”  
“Yeah, but we are not dying.” I cut in.  
“We might.” Ivan grumbles.  
“With that attitude I’ll kill you myself.” I retort.   
It earns a laugh from all of us. It’s a light mood; let’s hope it stays that way.  
We exit the neighborhood, coming to the two way road. One leads to the school i go to, and the other heads into town. We take a right into town. W come to the convenient store that was a sign that we were at the edge, but the weird part about it was that the parking lot was completely filled with cars. Smashed into each other, barricading the doors. All of the cars were empty.   
“Should we check it out?” Ivan asked.  
“No, I don’t even think we can get past the cars.” I say.   
The highway that turns into town was also crowded with cars. Some having blown past the barricades, ending up in the ditch.  
“Guys…” Mikey steps ahead of everyone. “I think that’s my parent’s car.”  
He walked towards a red Sudan, one of the many that ended up in the ditch.  
“Does it have the scratch?” Anthony calls after him.  
Mikey stops at the bumper, running his hand on a jagged scratch. He turns back to us and nods.  
I quickly move to the front window before Mikey could, and I immediately gag and double over. I quickly stand back up, pushing Mikey back as he goes to check himself.  
“Mikey, you don’t want to see it!”  
“What’s wrong?” Anthony calls.  
“Are they okay?” Mikey cries. “Is it them?”  
Before I can answer, he shoves past, looking into the window and just staring. He slowly backs up.   
“No… No!” He cries, falling to his knees. “Mom! Dad! Nick!” he screams. “This isn’t funny!” Anthony runs to him, grabbing his shaking shoulders as he heaves. “Stop it! Please, stop it!”  
In the car, a woman who I think is Mikey’s mother is in the passenger seat, with a gun in her limp hand. In the back, two male bodies I didn’t get a good look at are slumped over each other.  
Mikey just screams for his parents to stop acting and yells at Nick that it isn’t a funny joke. Anthony just hugs him, willing for him to stop. I can’t do anything but watch, glancing to the car that holds a worse scene that holds more mystery than Caleb’s room. If it’s worse, then why am I not doubled over like when I saw Caleb?  
That’s when I remembered that at Caleb’s, it took a few minutes to kick in, but now, it only took a few seconds.   
I rush to what’s left of the safety barriers, I empty my stomach over into the overgrown wild grass.   
I wipe my mouth, looking up through blurry vision to see Anthony and Mikey still crying into each other. I look around, not finding Ivan.  
I stand back up straight, looking over the highway to see Ivan walking to a small volkswagen, he gets close, see’s what’s in the car, and turns back around, looking everywhere, at each car, only for a second though, then ripping his gaze to another.  
I do the same. Looking into the windshields of the car right behind us. In the driver's seat, a man has his head through the glass. I turn away, not wanting to vomit again- there I go over the barrier again.  
I finish, but don’t stand up. I slowly get up, my head spinning.   
What if my parents are here?  
Anthony and Mikey have gone quiet. I look to them to see Anthony rubbing Mikey’s back as he quietly sobs. Ivan is sitting on one of the Barriers, holding Abigail and staring off into space.   
It’s your turn. Go find them.  
I stand up straight, moving past Mikey and Anthony, then I moved past Ivan. I jump into the back of a pickup truck that lodged itself between the roads. Trying not to look into the cockpit, I stand on top of the roof of the truck, seeing that the chaos lines all the way up to the traffic lights, and beyond into the small town who’s tallest tower is a church. I look at each car roof, noting each blue top I see, saying to myself that I’d check each one but knowing the one that was a few yards ahead and pinned between two other cars was the one. I jump down. If I remember anything from the drunk driving presentation in school, I know that getting pinned between cars with the drivers door smashed in means that you’re probably not gonna be alive. Or walk if you survive.   
I curse myself. Ivan was right. We should have come earlier, maybe even yesterday. If my parents are stuck inside a car paralyzed then I don’t think letting them sit for forty eight hours would help their chances.  
I break into a jog. The scene is in my eyesight. I bound towards it. The blue toyota was pinned between two cars. The doors were open, both cars empty, my heart jumps at the thought of my parents being alive. I stand on my toes, looking into the window. The doors are closed, and there’s a body slumped over in the driver’s seat. A wave a blonde hair stained red pressed against the window. I can’t stop myself. I walk towards the windshield of my car, passing the car that crushed the door that was probably the only escape for my parents.   
Technically, this is also an escape for them. Can’t turned unhinged is you’re dead.  
I bite my tongue. A tear burns my eye, and i continue moving to the front of the car. I stand in front of it. If the cars were to explode and take me with it I wouldn’t mind.   
I can see my dad leaning to the left, his glasses at a weird angle. His eyes stare into nothing. I remember watching a tv show where someone died in a car accident. The doctors said that it was instant, that they felt no pain. I couldn’t tell whether or not the feeling in my gut was hope that he died instantly, or hope that he was still alive so he could have a chance.   
My eyes drift from my dad, I anticipate what mom would look like, but to my relief, or horror, or shock, or surprise, or whatever… she wasn’t in the passenger seat.  
My heart suddenly does a fortnite dance. I step closer, the windshield was cracked, but not enough for my mom to have flown through the window.   
I look around. Did she survive? Is she somewhere, paralyzed, crawling to safety?  
I look back to my car and my hopes sink as I see a shape in the backseat.  
Oh no…  
I peer into the car, trying to make out the shape. The person in the backseat it definitely not my mom. It’s a man.  
I don’t recognize him. His bald head and dark skin are familiar though. I’ve seen him on my street before, but where?  
I think to my neighborhood. It was mostly white and mexican, but Mr. Cortez and Mr. Garcia had hair, and weren’t as dark skinned, and the only black family was…  
I look back to Anthony.   
Fuck.  
Anthony looks up from Mikey and catches my eye. He looks at me questioningly but his face drops the more he studies my eyes. He talks to Mikey for a few moments then walks to me.   
“Anthony,” I ask as soon as he’s in range. “Did your parents have a car?”  
“Yeah, but it was in the shop this week, it needed a new paint job.” his eyes drift over the three cars. “Why?” his voice is shaky.  
I turn away. I think about just walking into the tree line and just laying down in the dirt, closing my eyes, and never waking up. Would that be better?  
I turn back.   
“I’m sorry Anthony.” I can’t see him through my tears. I turn around again and wipe my eyes before I look back.   
He looks into the car, then back at me.  
“Is that your dad?” he whispers, voice raspy.  
“Yeah.” I choke up. The only distress in Anthony’s face is the tears that run down his face.  
“He looks like you.”   
“Your’s looks like you too.” I look back into the car. Anthony’s dad’s shoulders looked a bit too small for his body, I can tell by his legs he was a lanky man. While Anthony took after his small shoulders, his body was to small to determine his height yet.  
My dad’s body, while almost like the inner shell of what’s left of his body after he shed, was stocky. Short, with a forming belly that would have bloomed before I turned eighteen. He wouldn’t live to get his middle aged belly though. And he wouldn’t live to see my eighteenth birthday. Would I?  
“What was your dad’s name again?” I croak.   
“Andy. it’s pretty easy to remember our names since there’s not a lot of names that start with A out there.” He turns back to the car. “What was your dad’s name?”  
“Mason.”  
He nods, looking back at the car.  
“Do you have a mom?” He asks.  
“Yeah.” I look over the road. “I don’t know where she is though.”  
“Maybe she’s with my mom. Maybe they had another car.” He starts to really cry now.  
“Anthony,” I start.  
“You don’t know whether or not they’re dead.” His shoulders start to shake like Mikey’s. “They could have gotten out, maybe they got a ride, maybe…” he hiccups.   
I go to him and hug him. He hugs me back. I can hear him crying, and something else. After a few moments I realize that it’s me crying. I don’t feel the embarrassment I felt crying yesterday. My father is dead, and my mom might be too. I can cry for as long and as hard as I like. So can Anthony, and so can Mikey. If Ivan finds his parents dead, he can cry a river, and If I’m there, I’ll hug him like I did when we talked on the street. I’ll hug him like I am Anthony. I should have hugged Mikey, but if the situation arose with him crying, I’d hug him until he stopped, and then some, because even after the tears stopped, the weight and the feeling doesn’t stop. You never stop crying. We’re like clouds. We just build up until we can’t take it and just cry our eyes out. We cry until we’re just a little bit empty but still have a few more tears, because if we cried until we had nothing left we’d be hollow, and being sad for an hour and never wanting to cry again is better than being a hollow husk yearning for any kind of emotion and wanting to cry but you just can’t. So I will cry. I’ll cry for my dad, I’ll cry for Anthony’s dad, I’ll cry for Mikey’s family, I’ll cry for Caleb, and I’ll cry for the thought that my mom might still be alive.  
I’ll cry as I damn please, and if you have anything to say about it, i’ll cry for you too.


End file.
